


We can still be friends....right?

by JC_Cathrine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: FYTL contest fic, Growing Up, Gryffindor!John, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Potterlock, Ravenclaw!Sherlock, Romance, Teenlock, slow-building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JC_Cathrine/pseuds/JC_Cathrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following Sherlock Holmes and John Watson through their 7 Years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Together John and Sherlock have to face meddling peers, incompetent potion professors, exasperated head masters, disappearing ghosts and...girls? Have fun, boys, and try not to push each other away while you're at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We can still be friends....right?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I wrote this for fuckyeahteenlock's potterlock contest. Nothing special. All my reasoning for everyone's houses and wands at the end.

“Let me guess,” a voice that was much to bored to be coming from an eleven year old drawled behind John, “nine and half centimeters, walnut, with a unicorn hair core.”

John, nervous, turned and looked at a short boy with a tangle of black curly hair that was just covering the top of his eyebrows, said, “W...what spell allowed you to do that?”

The boy raised his eyes brows above his low hair-line and looked up at John condescendingly, “Oh, and a muggle-born. How dull.” He took a breath and continued before John could stutter an interuptiom, “Don’t worry, you’re not too far behind, most of the wizard-born idiots who we will soon be calling our peers would ask the same thing, don’t be nervous.”

John smiled, shrugging, “S’all a bit new, still.” he relaxed his shoulders and his voice didn't shake as much, now realizing that the boy was just another kid, and he had learned to deal with other kids.

The boy blinked at him, face impassive, before offering a shy smile and a hand, which John took, “I’m Sherlock,” the boy introduced himself, “And it’s only fair that I tell you: twelve and three quarters centimeters, ebony, and phoenix feather core. Did I get anything wrong, by the way?”

John blinked, “Cor, phoenix feather? Erm...black walnut, if that makes a difference.”

The boy, Sherlock, hissed and shook his head, seemingly angry at himself, “Black walnut, of course. Next time I won’t get anything wrong. What’s your name?”

“Oh!” John blushed, “Um, John. John Watson, hello.” he smiled, and was about to say something more when a tall man walked up behind Sherlock and put a hand on his shoulder, Sherlock jerked it away.

“Making friend, are we, little brother.”

“Piss off.” Sherlock muttered, John resolutely studying the suddenly fascinating floor.

“Tsk tsk, little brother, language. We’re not on the train yet. It’s time to go home, you got your wand, I trust.” It wasn't a question and Sherlock crossed his arms and scowled. The man walked off, clearly expecting Sherlock to follow.

Sherlock leaned forward and whispered to John, who looked up when the Sherlock’s brother had left, “On the train tomorrow meet me in compartment 221, okay?”

John smiled, relieved to have made a friend before school started, “Okay.” he whispered back, and grinned as Sherlock swept off, tripping slightly on his robes, and blushing furiously, chased off after his brother.                                                                                                                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Uh...” John said, rapping awkwardly at the door frame of the train compartment, “Sherlock?”

The named looked up and fought to keep from smiling at the John’s appearance before going back to glaring viciously at a short, shorter even then Sherlock, pale boy with dead silver eyes and cut black hair that fit his head awkwardly, “See? I’m not sitting by myself, so go away.”

“Fine,” the boy spat, Irish accent strong,“I’m sure I’ll see you in slytherin, however.” he wiggling his fingers in a mocking of a wave and shoved past John with hardly a glace. Sherlock glared after him before shifting his attention to John, this time allowing the smile to grace his features.

“John,” he said, “I erm, wasn't sure you’d make it.”

John shrugged, entering the compartment and sitting across from Sherlock, the door closing behind him “Don’t really have anywhere else to be, besides, I like you.” he smiled, “this whole thing is really new to me, but your brother goes to Hogwarts, right? So you must know all about it. Who was that?”

“My Mummy would say that you ask a lot of questions,” Sherlock told him, smiling, “That’s okay though, I ask a lot of questions too.”

“So?”

“So?”

“Answer them!” John huffed, grinning.

“Ah, yes. Well, my brother, Mycroft, he’s a seventh-year, and in slytherin. I don’t know everything about Hogwarts, but I will soon,” his eyes shone, “I’m going to learn everything there is to know about it.” he cleared his throat, “Sorry, erm, that was Jim, an old family friend. He’s insisting that I’m going to be in slytherin because my father and my brother are.”

“Why are you sorry? What house do you think you’re going to be put in?”

“Mycroft always tells me that I shouldn't bother people with what I’m going to do,” he scoffed, “and I don’t think, I know. It’s obvious I’m going to be in Ravenclaw. It’s essential that I know everything.” he paused, and then asked, almost shyly, “What house do you think you’ll be put into?"

John shrugged, “I dunno, Sher. I mean even you said yesterday that I’m muggle-born.”

“Sher?” Sherlock asked, surprised, no one had really called him anything other then ‘Sherlock’ before, except for the taunting ‘Sherly’ that Jim often called him, much to his disapproval. He was surprised to find, however, that he didn't mind so much with John.

“Yeah, ‘Sherlock’s a bit of a mouthful is all. I’ll stop.”

“No, it’s...fine.” Sherlock grinned at John and said, “Well, yes, you’re muggle-born, but surely you've read Hogwarts, A History,right? So you know the houses.”

“Well, yeah, sure.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow and waited for John to continue, he did, “I guess, erm,” he mumbled, shrugging again, “Gryffindor, I suppose. My sister, she’s a muggle, always said that I was too reckless for my own good.”

Sherlock giggled and nodded, “You’re very self-aware for an eleven year old.” he commented.

“Look who’s talking!” John countered, grinning, then he paused, “Um, Sher?”

“What?”

“Can we still be friends even though we’re most likely going to be in different houses?”

Sherlock blinked, he didn't know the proto-call for separate-house friendships, but he didn't care. He liked John, he got along with John, and, “Of course we can!” he claimed, “And if people don’t like it then people can go away. People are idiots, anyway.”

John smiled, “Sounds like a plan,” he offered his hand out, “Shake on it?”

Sherlock clasped his hand in Johns and nodded, “Promise.” he said.

“Promise.” John countered, with a wide grin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sherlock Holmes,” the stern voice that brooked no argument called out, John squeezed Sherlock’s shoulders as the boy took a breath and walked confidently up to the twitching sorting hat. Though he would never admit it to Jim or Mycroft – he was slightly worried. He didn't want to be sorted into slytherin, he wouldn't fit, he just wanted to know things, and honestly, that’s what Ravenclaw was all about, the Hat would see that, Sherlock was sure....mostly sure. He hopped up onto the stool, ignoring the sniggers of his shorter stature, and thought he heard one laughing boy standing near John yelp in pain and rub his arm, glaring at the blond, who ignored him in favor of giving Sherlock a thumbs up.

Sherlock looked at his lap as the Hat was placed a top his head. _“A cunning one, I see,” a voice hissed in his mind, not seeming to pass through his ears, “Always needing to get what you want, and not afraid to stand out, a brave one, but malicious at time...hmm....what is it that you want, that causes you to push people away...not power, it seems, no, knowledge? You just want to know more then anyone, be better then everyone, I’ll go with....”_

The hat called out to Great Hall, “Ravenclaw!” Sherlock hopped off the stool with a smirk, and grinned at John as he passed the blob of other first-years to sit at the Ravenclaw table, nodding to his table mates briefly before staring intently at John, waiting for his friends name to be called.

He had to wait a while, 15 letters before they got to the ‘W’s. Luckily John was the first one called, and as Sherlock watched his friend stumble slightly up the steps and wiggle on the stool, he hoped that this one wouldn't leave him – even though they would be put into separate houses. “...Gryffindor!” the hat called, and John smiled a little apologetically at Sherlock before joining his housemates at the long table. Sherlock watched, but John didn't look his way again, too busy talking with other Gryffindor first years that he was sitting around.

He looked down and picked at his food, ignoring any attempts of conversation. But when the feast was midway, however, John stood up from his table and walked over to Sherlock, handing him a note on a slip of paper and smiling before walking back to his seat, waving off questions and focusing on eating. Sherlock looked down and unfolded the note slowly.

_Hey Sher!_ , it read,  _So I guess we were right! We’ll still be friends, we shook on it, remember? I hear they have an open library from some of the older guys in my house, meet there tomorrow morning? –John_

Sherlock smiled, they would be all right after all. Suddenly hungry, he started putting food on his plate, finally taking stock of his house-mates.


End file.
